Rich Good of the Psychedelic Furs waits for tacos after the Nevada City Film Festival.

Well, my little dreamlettes, I’ve returned from the Nevada City Film Festival. As vacations go, it was a pretty, exhausting one. (Note the comma after “pretty,” denoting two different adjectives, you little sex-kitten, you.)

It’s a funny thing when the boyfriend and I look forward to returning to Los Angeles for some peace and relaxation. Not that the scent of sun-warmed oak and sounds of a rushing mountain river stress us out (and, conversely, helicopter traffic jams overhead or the drunken homeless barfing taquitos ‘n’ semen on our precious parking spot is as a purification rite for our fourth chakras), it’s that, whenever we go to my tiny hometown, we jam-pack it with so many activities and loved ones that we barely have a moment to shop the boutiques for high-priced, cantaloupe-bubblegum scented soap!

My nephew, Orion, prepares for puberty.

If you’ve never been to Nevada City, you really ought to treat yourself, especially if you’re in some form of romantic relationship, because it’s a great place for all forms of cuddling. And if you’re a single, heterosexual man, you should visit Nevada City post-haste, because the ratio of gorgeous young ladies to males – high to low – is something frequently remarked upon (and because there’s such a shortage of handsome dudes, you don’t have to be a pretty boy to snag a “10”.). If you’re waiting for the punchline here, don’t – I’m being serious; it’s really like this.

As the saying goes in my country, “Goody, goody gum-drops!” Tomorrow, the boyfriend and I are escaping the hum-drum, laid back sleepiness of Los Angeles for the glitz and glamor of Nevada City, California, my hometown.

Ten years ago, a group of local ne’er-do-wells (counting me amongst them) decided to throw a film festival at our tiny, beloved art-film theatre, The Magic Theatre. Originally we showed only submissions from the surrounding communities. Times have changed, and now the N.C.F.F. showcases films from around the world.

Boner.

I am especially excited to meet and hear from this year's special guests, Tim Heidecker and Eric Wareheim, best known for their disgusting, whimsical and lovable TV show, Tim & Eric Awesome Show, Great Job! (A lot of people don’t know this, but the last word in the title rhymes with “robe” and is a dedication to me.)

Two short films that I was especially fond of were “Quincy & Althea”, directed by Douglas Lenox – a dark comedy set in the ravaged landscape of post-Katrina New Orleans, and “The Lonely Lights. The Color of Lemons,” an artsy, sentimental, but polished look at a young man’s rites of passage as instigated/recalled through viewing a series of Rorschach ink blots tests.

Um... I see a train going back and forth into a tunnel while my mother looks on disapprovingly.

Another highlight was the documentary “Girls Rock”, which followed the experiences of a handful of kids and counselors as they spend a week at the Rock ‘n’ Roll Camp for Girls.

Eat your heart out, Ann & Nancy Wilson.

This Camp was founded in 2001 in Portland, Oregon, and has steadily grown larger and more popular. The first year it had 7 attendees; last year it hosted nearly 250. (That’s almost enough rock ‘n’ rollers to staff Amoeba Music Hollywood!)

What happens: girls between the ages of 8-18 come together for a crash course in rock ‘n’ roll. In one week, girls form bands, learn their instruments, compose songs and then perform them for a huge audience at the end of the week. Alongside the music, girls are also offered courses in basic self-defense, and self-esteem and fun are always prioritized.

Originally, I thought this trip to NevadaCity would consist mainly of me giving my sweetheart the royal tour – showing him details, hidden mysteries and beauty that only a local knows, but the new and improved Film Festival proved to monopolize our schedule. Conveniently, the entire staff were the same people I would have tried to hang out with anyhow, so that was okay, but the only hidden mystery I got to expose Corey to was the dazzling amount of booze that an average NC townie can down in a day.

It’s historical.

Job & Orion

He did get to meet my family.

I can’t even begin to tell y’all about my family. Sufficed to say, it is eccentric. Like, I’m one of the normal ones, and I bark at UPS trucks and punch people for offering me a “slice of melon”. But, odd as they are, they’re also loving. Corey did just fine.

Well, well – Look who’s come sauntering in like everything’s normal. If it isn’t little ol’ me. I think I can just waltz back in here after having been missing for days and expect you to just read my blog as though nothing’s happened? Is that it?

Well, I have another thing coming. You’re not some screensaver I can leave on, perpetually cycling a kaleidoscope of flying toasters while I go out and have a life! This is unacceptable! I mean, am I a blogger or not?

STOP!

You want the truth? Is that it? YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH.

Actually, you can, but I love that line. YOU CAN’T HANDLE THE TRUTH. It’s so over-the-top. I’m totally going to say it to my future kids whenever possible.